Extreme Dislike
by Satan's Sweeties
Summary: Edward truly hated three things in life: milk, playing cards with Winry, and using drive-up ATMs. Edward/Winry. Modern AU.


Anyone that knew Edward Elric could attest to the fact that he was typically an easy-going guy, though he did have a bit of a temper. He was okay to be around, and he even helped out the neighbors every once in a while, but everyone knew that it was best to avoid pissing him off. Winry Rockbell, his girlfriend, could definitely agree with that.

Ed was a simple person, having his likes and dislikes clearly outlined without even being spoken. There weren't many things he truly hated, but there were three he could name off the top of his head—milk, playing cards with Winry, and using drive-up ATMs.

He'd hated milk since he was a kid and his mother pretty much forced him to drink it every day. Usually, he just passed his glass off to Al, but sometimes Trisha would watch him and he had no other choice than to stomach it. At first, Trisha suspected he was lactose intolerant, but four helpings of grilled cheese said otherwise.

Playing cards with Winry was something he'd sworn off since the fifth time he'd been bamboozled into it, because he knew for sure that she cheated something fierce. It didn't matter what game they played, be it Go Fish or Texas Hold 'Em, because she cheated every single time. Worst of all, he couldn't call her out on it, because every time he did she just stuck her bottom lip out and gave him The Face, which he'd privately dubbed the Fuck-I'm-Not-Winning-This-Argument Face.

(It's not like he was _weak _against it or anything; Winry was just too damn cute and hard to say no to when she made The Face. Even Riza Hawkeye, one of the neighbors that was notoriously steel-faced and a stickler for the rules, couldn't resist giving in to it.)

What he hated quite possibly the most, however, was having to use a drive-up ATM, especially when someone else was in the car with him or someone was behind him and waiting for their turn. For his withdrawals, Ed usually chose a walk-up ATM, because it was easier than having to maneuver Winry's Hummer through the ATM lane and risking taking off a mirror, but also because the bank designers never put the island the ATM is on close enough to the lane.

Ed absolutely _hated _opening the door and getting out of the car just to take out twenty dollars. _Hated _it with the white-hot intensity of a billion suns, because it was one thing for a woman to have to get out to use the ATM—it was something entirely different for a man to do the same.

The whole thing stemmed from a lunch break one day. Roy Mustang, Ed's boss, asked for a private meeting with him over lunch, which Edward agreed to drive to. The problem was that he had no cash in his wallet and would have to stop at the bank to get some money.

He neglected to realize that that meant he would have to use the drive-up ATM. With Roy in the passenger seat.

They were having a "friendly" conversation as Ed drove, and it wasn't until he was successfully in the ATM lane that Ed recognized he would have to get out of Al's Corolla to complete his transaction. He could _feel _Roy's smirk as he grudgingly unlocked the doors and stepped out onto the pavement in front of the ATM, and prayed that he would keep his big, stupid mouth shut about his challenge with vertical measurement.

What foolish hopes.

About three-quarters of the way through his transaction, Ed heard Roy stifle a snigger and sighed before banging his forehead on the ATM repeatedly until he had his money and his ATM card back. After a growled warning about not saying a damn thing about anything, they were off.

(The rest of the guys at the law firm noticed Edward was unusually tense when he and Roy returned. After Hughes ran around with a picture of his daughter for the umpteenth time that day, they'd just dismissed it as a mood swing.)

Whenever Ed had a bad day, he'd come home to Winry and vent for about an hour or two, then she'd pat his head and tell him everything was alright and if he could pick up some bread the next time he went out. She was a good listener, but wasn't always too keen with reassuring him that there was nothing wrong with being shorter than average.

It usually ended with him sulking in the living room for a few hours.

That day when he and Roy went out to lunch, he came home complaining that Roy was an asshole who just liked to make fun of him because he happened to be borne from giants when Ed wasn't and what does it matter anyway, right? It wasn't as though he was too short or anything.

Winry just sighed, patted his head, and told him to suck it up and deal with the fact that he was short so he could stop being useless and go boil water for the pasta.


End file.
